Dark Vengeance Page 4

  I reached into my bag and got more bills. I placed them on the exam table. “Can you please get this money to the organization for me?”

  He looked at the money. I could see him struggling, and finally he simply sighed.

  I crouched down again and nuzzled my face into Dylan’s head. “You be a good boy.”

  Asahi held the door open for me.

  “Thank you,” he said, gesturing to the money on the exam table.

  “I’d like to do more,” I said. “As soon as I get to a bank, I will.”

  Asahi was about to close the door when I spoke.

  “I’m on the island looking for Rose, Dylan’s owner. She was kidnapped.”

  He didn’t seem surprised. “I did not know her, but I did hear she was taken.”

  I frowned at his use of past-tense.

  “Can you tell me about X? Nobody wants to talk about him for some reason. It’s like talking about Voldemort in Harry Potter or something.”

  Asahi shot me a grim smile, then with a slight shake of his head, he closed his door.

  What the fuck?

  7

  X was in the bath. The bubbles were up to his neck, and he was sipping his coffee, idly scrubbing his genitalia when his phone rang.

  “I’m busy,” he said in an annoyed voice. His voice echoed in the room. But his curiosity got the best of him and he glanced over at the phone’s screen.

  The number was blocked. He snatched up the phone with a soapy hand.

  “What now?” He was trying to be brave, put on a show of bravado that he didn’t really feel.

  The voice on the other end was disguised with a voice changer. It was speaking Mandarin. It told him today was the day he must make his move. Up until now, he’d only received emails. He listened to the voice. With the voice changer, it was impossible to tell if it was a man or a woman.

  At those words, X couldn’t help but glance over at the locked door. Beyond it was a bedroom.

  Sighing loudly, he gave a tight smile even though nobody else could see it.

  “The money better be in my account this morning or we’re not going anywhere. I can think of all sorts of uses for what you want.”

  He hung up before the voice on the other end could answer.

  “Bastard,” he said.

  Sinking back into the bubbles, he began to fondle himself again.

  But he remained limp and small. He was only in his thirties. He wasn’t sure what was going on. He tried imagining his latest conquest. She was a pretty little thing. As long as he kept her high and promised her more drugs, she would do anything he wanted. The problem was that living overseas the past few years had made even the most depraved sex acts blasé for him.

  He was almost more turned on by a simple fuck missionary style than any of the outrageous things he used to force his partners to do.

  He didn’t want to admit that the new girl didn’t really do it for him.

  Too feisty when the drugs wore off and too much like a wet fish when she was sedated.

  He wanted a girl who was excited about him and not just appeasing him for more drugs.

  Once upon a time, he didn’t have to convince anyone to feel that way.

  Was it only a few short years ago when he was able to charm and woo women with the best of them? He’d grown lazy. The sex was too easy in Indonesia. Everything under the sun had a price, and he had the money to pay it.

  As he idly stroked his penis, which felt silky because of the expensive bath oils he poured into the sunken tub, X thought of his life ten years ago. He’d been poor, living in a studio apartment and eating rice and beans for dinner.

  At the time, he was still Joseph. X hadn’t been born yet. He was there, under the surface, but he hadn’t been fully formed and was just getting ready to emerge into the world.

  Mrs. Samantha Jackson had been his salvation. She had changed his life.

  He saw her walking her expensive little fucking lap dog every day in the park.

  Sitting on his usual bench with a baggy coat on and his wool stocking cap pulled low, he blended into the scenery. The first time he’d seen her, she’d glanced over and immediately dismissed him with his overgrown beard and dirty clothes.

  But he’d noticed something about her immediately. Like she had with him, she ignored most people, keeping her snooty nose up in the air and her chin just above the fur collar of her coat. However, if a fit young man ran by, he saw her eyes flit up and down the man’s body and watched her cheeks redden.

  He’d never seen a woman so fucking horny. If even looking at a young man made her blush, then this was one woman who hadn’t had any sex for a long time. He knew just how to help her.

  After observing her surreptitiously for about two weeks, he knew what time she’d be walking Fido through the park. He also knew what time she passed this particular bench near his apartment.

  He spent two days at all the plasma buying centers around the city, scraped up his last few dollars and went to buy some fancy running shorts and shoes. Then he splurged on a haircut and shave and had a manicure and pedicure. Then, he checked the forecast and waited for the next warm day.

  Right when she was expected, he pulled up short near the bench and ripped off his shirt, breathing heavily. That was his trump card, his advantage—he had an amazing body under his baggy clothing. And he cleaned up nice. In fact, his looks had never been his problem with women, or anything else. It had been his sociopathic tendencies. But he’d learned over the past few years how to fake empathy and emotion with the best of them.

  At the time, he used his $58 Lululemon shirt to swipe at his brow and pretended to accidentally meet her eyes. And locked his gaze onto hers. Then, putting every ounce of charm into it, he flashed his best smile. She actually stopped walking and appeared stunned.

  He came closer and then said, “Do you mind if I pet your dog? We had this same dog when I was growing up.”

  He waited until she gave a mute nod before he crouched.

  At first the dog gave a slight growl, but then he offered the tiny piece of meat he’d had tucked into his palm. The dog went fucking nuts. It was whining and wagging its tail and licking his hand. He laughed and looked up.

  She was laughing, too. “I’ve never seen Oscar take to someone so quickly.”

  He stood up. At this point, their faces were only inches apart. He was glad he’d used extra mouthwash, but quickly realized that she hadn’t.

  He didn’t flinch, though, and said, “I’ve always thought dogs were great judges of character.” He said it in his low, deep voice. The one that women in college had told him made them wet their panties.

  Her lips trembled and her eyes widened, but then she bit her lip and seemed to gather the courage to speak. “I’ve always thought so, too,” she said in a soft voice.

  Boom. A done deal.

  After that point, she couldn’t resist him.

  He smiled to himself in the bath now, remembering how she had just been the first. He’d perfected his technique on her. And then moved on.

  But she would always hold a special place in his heart.

  She was the one who first got to know the newborn X. She had fed him and nurtured him with her lust and futile love.

  That’s what X realized what was missing from his life now: he missed the art of the hunt. It made him feel more alive than anything else. It wasn’t the sex; it wasn’t the money. It was the thrill of the chase.

  It was about time he got back into the game. He was ready.

  His thoughts drifted to a woman he’d met in Padang last month. As soon as he thought of her, he grew ramrod hard. Again, not because he was imagining fucking her.

  He would fuck her. But only because that was how the game was played.

  She would be perfect in all ways. She was perfectly fuckable. A rich bitch. Lonely. And, best of all, in a foreign country where nearly anything goes.

  Her blonde iciness was definitely attractive to him, as well. When his mother was yo
ung, she’d also had that color blonde hair. Bonus.

  He wasn’t sure what color her eyes were. He hadn’t been able to get that close to her yet. He’d only done reconnaissance. He hadn’t actually opened the game yet. This was still the observation and research stage. But it was getting close. He mentally went over everything he knew about her. Her address. Her daily routines. Her favorite shops and restaurants.

  She was older, maybe even older than he was. And she was slightly overweight. She had beady eyes but sensual lips and big billowy breasts where he wanted to bury his face. But her biggest attraction to him was her money. X loved women with money. He wooed them and then stole every last penny from them before disappearing.

  Money turned him on more than any tits or ass ever could.

  This one lived in a penthouse high above the city. She drove a Mercedes. She wore Gucci and had fingers covered in expensive rings.

  He couldn’t wait to see the fear on her face when she realized what he really was. He didn’t care for the killing part itself, just the terror he invoked was enough. In fact, he found the killing incredibly distasteful. But he’d learned his lesson. By keeping his victims alive after he was done with them, he’d put a price on his head.

  Although he had grown complacent and no longer lived in daily fear of the CIA showing up at his front door, he still had to remain in hiding and be careful.

  Look what had happened recently.

  Now, he was at the mercy of some asshole who had figured out who he was.

  It was bullshit.

  He sighed, stepping out of the bath, his hard- on now gone, thinking about the voice on the other end of the phone.

  Time to play nice.

  And then once he was done, he’d pay a visit to Ms. Mercedes and see what other goodies she had in her penthouse.

  8

  Back in the village, I bought some food and water to bring back to the surf camp, filling up my backpack and paying for two cheap plastic tote bags to carry everything.

  The market was deserted except for a middle-age woman, with her hair pulled back severely in a bun and a heavily wrinkled tan face, running the cash register. I wandered the few aisles with canned goods and then stood in front of the deli area. There were whole roasted pigs staring at me and other delicacies I didn’t recognize. Off to the side was another area more like a café with cooked items in a display case. The clerk came over, and I asked her if she spoke English. She gave me a blank look, so I pointed at the items I wanted. As I paid, I asked about X. Even though she didn’t seem to speak English, I repeated his name several times and watched closely for any reaction to his name. She didn’t react at all and continued bagging my purchases.

  “Do you know him?”

  She didn’t look up at me, instead avoiding my eyes, but I did see a small frown cross her face. She went into a back room before I walked out the front door.

  Outside, there was an old man sitting on a bench. He wore baggy trousers, stained tan work boots, and, despite the morning heat, a flannel shirt.

  He looked up at me and smiled so I stopped and asked him.

  “I’m looking for X. Do you know where he lives?”

  The man spit his chewing tobacco on the ground and scowled.

  “Is that a yes or a no?”

  He fluffed out a newspaper and put it in front of his face. Conversation over, I guessed.

  I walked over to the garage. The roll-up door was open, and I could see the legs of a mechanic sticking out from under an old Chrysler.

  “Excuse me?” I said.

  The man scooted out. “Good morning,” he said back in English.

  He looked to be in his thirties. He had cropped auburn hair, beefy hands, and a ready smile. He wiped his hands on a rag and then on his jeans.

  I smiled back. I gestured to the bags in my hands and said, “I’m looking for a ride back to the surf camp north of here. Do you have taxis or anything around here?”

  I figured I’d lead with the innocuous questions first.

  “Not anymore. We did have a company but after all the taxis were stolen, he decided to find a new job.”

  “All of them? Do they know who took them?”

  The man scratched his head. “Well, I have my suspicions, but …”

  “Let me guess … he who shall not be named?”

  The guy laughed. “Yeah. That guy.”

  Then he frowned. “You been asking around about him?”

  “Yeah. I want to find out where he lives, but if I bring up his name, everybody acts like they are deaf. You going to do that, too?”

  He stared at me for a second and then jammed his fists into the front pockets of his jeans and sighed. “It’s just that the last person who came around asking ended up strung from a tree outside town.”

  He looked down and cleared his throat before continuing. “We heard his wife and daughters back in the states were raped.”

  Holy fuck. I nearly spoke the words out loud.

  “Just for asking, huh?”

  “He might’ve done more than that. I think he was digging around, had something on X that ended up being his death sentence. The owner of the taxi company made the mistake of taking this guy to X’s house.”

  “Who was this guy? The one digging around?”

  The man shrugged. “Not sure, but the rumor was some type of private investigator.”

  I thought about that for a second.

  Like everyone else on the island, X was here hiding from something. Something worth killing for.

  “I think he has something to do with my daughter disappearing. I need to find him.”

  “I’m sorry I can’t help you. I got a wife and baby at home.” He looked around outside the garage. “I’m probably being stupid even talking to you. You don’t have a car for me to work on and we’ve been talking a while. It’s already pretty damn suspicious.”

  “Like I said, I need some wheels. Can you sell me some?” I said, looking around the garage. There was another car with a car cover over it.

  He saw my gaze. “Storing that for someone. Sorry. But I have an idea.”

  He walked out of the dark garage. I followed him. He headed around the back. There was a woodpile and a small shed. He unlocked the shed.

  “Hold on,” he said. He disappeared inside and then emerged, wheeling a small motorcycle. It wouldn’t hold a candle to my old bike in San Francisco. It probably wouldn’t outrun a cow. But it was better than walking.

  “I could have her running in an hour if you can wait around.”

  “How much?”

  “Two hundred dollars.”

  “Deal.”

  He smiled. “Good. Gives me a good reason to be talking to you.”

  After he wheeled the bike into the garage, I headed toward a small hill on the main street and sat in the grass. I pulled out what I’d bought at the market—beef satay sticks, a vegetable and coconut salad, and some rice wrapped in banana leaves—and had a small picnic. As I chewed, I tried to figure out a way to get the mechanic to tell me where X lived.

  Later, when I paid him and picked up the bike, he turned to me and said, “You know if you ride this straight over to X’s house, they are going to assume I told you where he lived. You might as well put a target on my back.”

  “I don’t know where he lives.”

  “There might be a piece of paper taped to the inside of the seat once you lift it. I’m not sure how it got there,” he said with a smile. “But I’m going to need about forty-eight hours for suspicion to not fall on me.”

  “That’s a long time.”

  He shrugged. “No good deed goes unpunished, I guess.”

  “I’ll wait. Unless I know my daughter’s life is in danger and then I’m sorry. But if it goes as I plan, he won’t be able to hurt anyone else ever again.”

  “Your kid, huh? You don’t look much older than her.”

  “I’m the closest thing she has to a mother—or parent of any type.”

  He looked
down and then turned away. “The less I know the better.”

  “Probably right.”

  I started the bike and hopped on. It purred under me. I was so excited to have transportation again.

  I waited until I was out of town and then pulled over to the side of the road. I checked under the seat and found the paper the mechanic had mentioned. It was a crude map. It showed the main street and a street that ran parallel to it. Other lines indicated side streets. A car marked the mechanic’s garage. One street was winding and at the end of it was a drawing of a house with an X on it.

  Boom. I tore the paper into shreds and then scattered them to the wind. I didn’t like to litter, but I couldn’t take the chance that anything would lead back to the mechanic and his family.

  Back at the beach, the waves were empty. I walked back up to the road and slowly walked past the huts. Everyone had all the doors and windows open to catch the breeze. The way the huts were laid out, they had large front doors facing the ocean and windows facing the road. I walked in the sand in front of the huts, looking inside.

  People were crashed on large futons spread out on the floors in the first two huts I passed. In the third, a guy was sitting on the edge of his futon eating something out of a bowl. He met my eyes and kept chewing. In the fourth hut, I found Makeda.

  She was leaning against the back wall and had a notebook in her lap and a pen in her hand.

  I paused in the doorway. She saw me, put the book down, and stood up.

  She was wearing baggy khakis and a tank top. Her dreads were coiled in a bun on the top of her head and she had on wire-rimmed glasses.

  Stepping over a figure under a blanket on her futon, she came to the door and said in a low voice, “Let’s take a walk.”

  We headed down to the water where the crashing waves drowned out our voices.

  “I’m going to X’s tonight.”

  “It’s too dangerous.”

  “For me or you?”

  Makeda squinted her eyes, facing the sea. “Both.”

  “What about Rose? Is it too dangerous for her, too?”

  “If he has her, it’s too late.”